


Time will tell

by not_working_just_for_now



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22802194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_working_just_for_now/pseuds/not_working_just_for_now
Summary: Something strange was forming between them on that bleak winter day, pronounced on the ride home already, the small talk falling awkward and unnatural. The car ride made him realize: it's been so long since they'd been apart for a whole half a month he couldn't remember the last time it happened.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Time will tell

**Author's Note:**

> This is about Half in the Bag characters and them only

He felt like he was falling out of something he'd never been a part of. He felt Jay's presence like an animal feels the presence of a superior predator - they had been friends for more than 15 years and never had he felt this uncomfortable around Jay. They spent nearly every second of their lives together, they drank, they laughed, they got mad at each other, they shared a place because it was convenient. Their routine had become perfectly coordinated, predictable, and Mike never thought much of it before. 

Why this, why now? One more weird, uncomfortable thing in this god-awful evening. First, his car broke down on the way back from Chicago where he visited his parents in a retirement home. Usually, it was a three-day trip, but he stayed for a week, then for another one. Mike didn't have a reason to stay longer than intended, just felt old and nostalgic walking through the streets of his young years, and the combination sucked him in, the time flying by with the speed of light. Jay didn't bother to ask for a reason anyway, just randomly sent him abrupt glimpses of his life in text form, more often than not in the middle of the night. In the daylight, he was probably busy with that new hipster moran who was so far fruitlessly trying to get Jay to call him 'boyfriend'. 

Mike had to call Jay to pick him up, having seen no cars in sight for about half an hour, and hung pitifully on the side of the road, snow whirling around the car, covering it rapidly. Something strange was forming between them on that bleak winter day, pronounced on the ride home already, the small talk falling awkward and unnatural. The car ride made him realize: it's been so long since they'd been apart for a whole half a month he couldn't remember the last time it happened, the weirdness of the statement and how it made him feel had closed in on him by the end of the ride like two ancient evil entities who saw him from the woods while he stood on the side on the road and clung to him, followed him home. 

Then they were in the VCR repair shop, Mike getting warmed up with booze and Jay watching him wistfully while flicking through radio stations just to find out that the heavy snowfall would mean they'd have to stay the night at work. Somehow, the VCR shop had become a dangerous place. In the comfort of their small, but lived-in apartment Mike felt comfortable and non-threatened. Jay would never bring anyone, but a mutual friend to their little cosy confinement and Mike had no reason to worry about anything as long as they could sprawl on a couch, watch movies, drunkenly ramble on about plans for new schemes. In the shop, people would come and go, some of them would come back to try and flirt with Jay, mostly hipsters and morans, most of them left rejected. Most of them.

Jay must have sensed Mike's resentment toward the place, seemed out of it himself. He didn't look as well-groomed as he usually was, with hair lacking in styling product and blue shadows underneath his eyes, stared at Mike like he was seeing him for the first time and tried to memorize his face. It was all so strange and Mike blamed the shop for his misadventures as vehemently as ever. Realizing they'd be stuck in the place which haunted Mike dreams with images of Jay being hit on, charmed, and eventually drifting away, Mike spiralled further into the sorrow that had been already inflicted upon him, felt like he had reached his final destination of misery.

And then Jay with his clumsy hands happened to spill beer all over his jeans and shirt. He had to change - into one of Mike hoodies, of course. Jay was not the type of person to forget his clothes at work, or at least he told Mike so while wiggling his arms through sleeves too long for him. That day was certainly the day of revelations: Mike would have never thought that a short glimpse of man's body could make him feel so unsettled, so alive. And now this man was sitting next to Mike, in a blue hoodie so charmingly big on him and babbled away about Friday the 13th movies - so blissfully unaware of Mike's mental state, of his chaotic train of thought. 

They had moved into the back-room to watch Jay's favourite horror franchise to pass the time, and as if to make things worse for Mike, Jay's head awkwardly bumped against his arm, once, twice - seemed like Jay couldn't find a good position to place himself - and then his temple was pressed against Mike's shoulder and there was not much Mike could do about it - he froze just like an animal that feels a superior predator touch its skin with long sharp teeth. He truly didn't know where the fear was coming from. Some kind of unnamed worry had culminated inside him while he roamed the snowy streets of Chicago, while he pondered over what future held for him, and this worry was spilling out now.

Perhaps, Mike should have said something. Perhaps if he heard Jay respond to him, heard Jay's voice, always so reasonable and undistressed, maybe then he would have been able to let all the strange thoughts go. His mind wandered from the times of their youth to the recent past and back to that very moment when they sat on a couch together and he was falling out. Out of vague conversation about horror movies he was barely a part of. Out of the thing that he had never known he was a part of. His thoughts concentrated on the idea that talking with Jay might have solved the problem, until he accidentally stumbled across a tingling sensation that told him that he didn't need to talk to Jay to get this over with, the just really, really _wanted_ to talk to him. Not about new exciting ways to scheme Mr Plinkett out of his money, or when the owners of the shop would show up the next time. Not about recent Hollywood trends, reboots and remakes, Blu Rays they were waiting to come out. Just get him somewhere nice, quiet, while they were absolutely sober, and tell him things.

Observe him like he used to when they were younger and didn't know each other that well, catch that glimmer of light in his eyes that always fascinated Mike and made Jay so much more dear to him. He wanted not to be scared of showing that he cared, wanted to ease up and lean into the head that partly rested on his shoulder and press his cheek against it, touch the back of Jay's neck with his lips as a sign of gratitude. Gratitude for the fact of his precious existence in Mike's life. For the way he always balanced Mike's mean and pessimistic attitude towards people and work. For how it made a hollow space inside Mike move with satisfaction every time he managed to make Jay crack up with the dumbest joke.

The movie was coming to an end, and Mike saw a great opportunity to escape. 

"I think we have some VCR's that need fixing, and since we're stuck in here..." he waved his hand around, speaking feeling very difficult all of a sudden. Maybe he was just drunk.

"Are you gonna help me?" the question was obviously meant to be a joke, considering that the number of times Mike actually helped Jay with the repair was equal to zero, and there was a little smile on Jay's face that Mike found adorable. He asked himself if the guy that was trailing Jay around found his little soft smiles adorable, if he had even the fraction of appreciation Mike had for them, realized how rare and special they were. 

"No, I'm gonna watch and make helpful comments," Mike tried to sound jokingly to match Jay and probably failed because the look on Jay's face grew confused. Mike was expecting him to ask questions, but maybe Jay was also tired or didn't care enough, or thought it was perfectly normal for his friend to be this weird and grumpy, which to some extent was true. They moved from the couch silently, and after Jay sat in an old computer chair behind a work desk and Mike landed near him in another spinning-chair, Jay spent some time fidgeting with VCR parts the names of which Mike had long forgotten. In silence that hung grimly over both of them, Mike was waiting for something he couldn't find words to name. Readiness? Confidence? He was about to fall out of something and then come back rushing like a racehorse. 

"I wanna get drunk. Fucking shit-faced." These were not the words that Mike expected to hear so he jolted mid-thought, hearing Jay say things that Mike would usually say. Jay had cut down on drinking, "get drunk" for him now meant "a couple of beers and a pretzel". Something about his tone, however, told Mike that this time it wasn't the case. Another wave of strangeness hit him, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair. He wanted to ask why would Jay want to do that, but it seemed like his lips went numb: he simply couldn't find the strength to open his mouth.

"I wanna get drunk, cos I've got something on my mind and I can't get it out." Jay continued, gripping a screwdriver so hard his knuckles went white. This was it. The finale Mike was afraid he saw in Jay's eyes when they said their goodbye's two weeks ago. The time itself fell heavy on Mike's chest. _I can't get it out_. Some part of Mike wished Jay could get this over with as quickly as it was humanly possible. But if Jay needed help, who was Mike to deny him?

Without saying a word, Mike got up, went into their lounge room where they had some beers left, but went past them and opened his little cabinet that mostly contained the basic stuff: keys, wallet, stationery and warm clothes, and also some old junk. Beneath all of this, there was a nice big bottle of rum he had vague memories of stealing. He got back holding the bottle and a couple of glasses in his hands. Jay's eyebrows raised with question when he saw them, but he didn't say anything, just put down the screwdriver he was holding.

He received a glass filled with amber liquid from Mike's hand and just stared at it as if the concept of drinking alcohol was new to him, while Mike gulped his shot down quickly and poured himself more. Jay watched Mike consume rum for a second, and his stare burnt Mike's skin with intensity of a nuclear beam, but he said nothing, pretending to be unaware, and eventually, Jay got to his glass, too. He drank slowly like he was afraid to get poisoned, with a look of strong concern on his face. Usually, alcohol set them free in some regards, filled them up with a fuzzy feeling of comfort and easiness. At that moment, Mike felt heavy and unstable at the same time, like he was going to fall on the floor with all of his weight and shatter like an eggshell.

When Mike lifted his face to look at his friend, he immediately regretted it: Jay was in the state that Mike had secretly hated all these years. Jay was in that condition of drunkenness that made him all weepy and sort of clingy, ready to rest his head on anybody's shoulder. Mike clearly remembered one of that rarest moment when he got genuinely angry with somebody for the first time in a while - that one time Jay got drunk like this and nuzzled one of their friend's arm in a semi-slumber. Mike felt the residue of that anger flash through his head along the memories of him standing in the doorway, watching Jay's peacefull face rest against the guy's body, his chest moving slowly and quietly, while Mike's very soul felt like descending into another, unknown to humans, realm of Hell, where he couldn't come up to them, push the other fucker away and cover every inch of Jay's sleepy, slightly puffy face with kisses. He had tried to dismiss the memory of ever having this feeling like it was a remnant of some sort of nightmare, a weak attempt to cover how hard the truth about himself had shaken him. 

The truth was that he could never do that. Even when there was no one around and Jay stood right beside him, close, like Mike always wanted him to be, he couldn't force himself to wrap his arms around Jay, touch that sensitive place behind his ear with his nose ( _no one ever has to know how he knows that it is_ ) and whisper something sweet to him. Or dirty. Knowing Jay for such a long time, it would probably be dirty. Something in Jay's gaze when they watched horror movies that also happened to be hard-core porn made Mike believe it would be fucking dirty.

If he was as bold and strong as he had always claimed then maybe one day he would have gotten behind Jay, caressed his side, navigated his hand to Jay's stomach, stroking it slowly, feeling Jay lean back to him while Mike teased him through the fabric until he heard a quiet begging sound escape Jay's mouth. Jay's sweet, always slightly wet mouth. Mike had never fantasized about something specific, kept thoughts like that at bay for his own safety, but in the back of his mind there invariably was a vague image of him letting his fingers glide over Jay's lips, the sheepish, needy expression occurring on smaller's man face as Mike would let them go further inside his mouth.

The night Mike tried to lose all memory of was the night he woke up, feeling worked up and hot, clueless as to what in his dreams had made him that way. Yet till that very day, he couldn't scrape from his mind the shock he felt after coming and realizing that the very thing that brought him to completion was a blurry image of hay-coloured hair and heavy-lidded, begging grey eyes beneath him.

If he had had the courage that might have happened a long time ago.

Maybe if he could get rid of all of these nasty, feverish thoughts that were filling his head, he could speak his mind for once, finally do the right thing even if it was the last thing he did for Jay. But his drunkness didn't help him, and even Jay's drunkness couldn't help him either: with the way his eyes shimmered and his lips, wet and red from constant biting on them, parted, Mike simply couldn't think straight. 

His mind started to wander off again, almost slipping into its usual procrastinating dream-like state when he felt Jay tilting to his side, clumsily bumping their foreheads and finally reaching Mike's mouth with his, just as clumsily. The heavy smell of rum, sweat, old fabric that had drops of his own scent and the smell of Jay himself did things to Mike that porn magazines wouldn't do when he was a teenager. Brutish want boiled up inside of him, making him grip Jay's shirt firmly and pull him closer to his chest, almost dragging him into his lap. The way Jay moaned, not breaking away from Mike's mouth, set Mike's body ablaze, and the sensation of open fire inside his chest gave him the strength to pull Jay from his chair into Mike's lap completely. They were undeniably close now, just like he wanted to. How could he be locking himself away from this for all those years? He felt like he was falling out of something he'd never been a part of before because all this pain and denial could not have been him. This time when Jay was right there, hot and overwhelming, he couldn't picture how it was not to be this way - not to feel Jay's presence all over his body and beyond that, not to be comforted by two hands steadily resting on his shoulders and the smaller's man body crashed into his. 

"Fucking fuck how I missed you," a whisper came in his ear and all he could do in response was to shift Jay in his lap so that he was straddling Mike, clinging to him even harder. "I'm not even that drunk to say that."

"Well, I am," was all Mike could say before proceeding to kiss Jay's neck, gradually moving to his cheeks and ears. It felt so good. Better than alcohol or Star Trek, better than Plinkett's Medicash checks, better than breathing. He would trade all of it just to be able to touch Jay like that one more time, make him like this: the sound he made when Mike playfully bit side of his neck, the way his breathing became heavy when Mike's hand brushed over his back and moved lower, the wet feeling he sensed when Jay put his mouth close to his ear and whimpered shakily: _I need you inside me so bad_. And then brought that wetness to his lips with: _Now, Mike, please. Been wanting to put my mouth around your cock since I was fucking nineteen._

Jay's words were barely registering in his head, the room around them was spinning and in a complete haze, everything, but Jay unimportant, non-existing. The thrill of it all was swallowing him down and Mike felt newly threatened, couldn't resist his panic. He pulled away from Jay's face, looking at him intensely. Jay looked like an absolute mess. Hair dishevelled, lips wet and mouth open with heavy panting, cheeks beaming with ravishing red colour, eyes dark and awash. Mike wanted him like he'd never wanted anybody else, ever. He could almost feel the warm breath from these lips landing onto the tip of his cock, could hear the slurpy sound Jay would undoubtedly make, considering the fact that Mike was pretty big, he could almost... But he couldn't. 

Jay was everything he ever wanted in his life, and there he was: drunken and submissive, and as needy as a human being could be, so beautiful it hurt. It also hurt because looking at him, Mike felt like a thief dragging a masterpiece away from its righteous owner deep in the night. Jay had no owner, could never have one, wouldn't let anybody even close to this title. Mike remembered seeing it on Jay's face as they parted, reading it between the lines as Jay told him quietly, avoiding his eyes: _it's not like I was planning to spend my whole life renting a place with a co-worker._

The flashes of this goodbye and the huge fight they had had right before he left for Chicago were flickering before his eyes, making it all too difficult. Among them, there was a nauseating feeling of self-pity that wouldn't let him pick up his phone while Jay was calling him approximately twelve hours after Mike had left.

He had to run again, but this time he had no excuse.

 _Now, get it together, Scientist Man_ , he said to himself, simultaneously trying not to let Jay fall down from the chair, or to get his wobbly little hands on the fly of Mike's pants. He attempted to get up and received a protesting moan, but didn't pay attention to it. Carefully, he removed himself out of the chair, leaving Jay looking puzzled, but blithe, with content clearly pronounced in his pose. 

"Where are you going?" the sound of Jay's languid voice and his intense, effortlessly seductive stare almost made Mike want to change his mind, go back to the humid confinement of their embrace and go on with whatever they were capable in that chair. Without breaking the eye contact, he took a step forward and placed his hand on Jay's flushed cheek, with his thumb landing on Jay's lips, feeling like if he didn't pull away at that moment, he never would. And as if to even further complicate the decision for Mike, Jay's tongue stuck out, accompanied by muffled groan escaping his lips, and moved impishly around the tip of Mike's digit. It took Mike almost all of his self-control to slowly backtrack to another room, Jay dreamily watching him go. 

In the other room, he contemplated. He felt sad and pathetic, also like maybe Jay was playing a trick on him. On the way back he home Jay did mention that him and the hipster fuck had decided to take a break, but Mike was too far into his insecure delusion to believe him. Jay was just trying to avoid another fight, Mike had thought, didn't acknowledge Jay's words. Now a new fear was clouding his perception. What if Jay just needed a substitute for that guy, somebody he didn't need to be romantically involved with and could use for a quick one whenever he wanted.

Mike sighed, falling onto a couch, his head spinning a bit and bulge in his pants hurting just a little. It wasn't bad pain, though, as it reminded him exactly how good it felt there, to be tied up in his friend's arms and surrounded by his warmth. 

This reminiscing brought him to another memory he had tried to suppress until this day. That time when they still lived separately and Jay threw a Halloween party with bad horror movie watching and everyone wore costumes, including Jay with his lumberjack hat, plaid shirt, and suspenders, and Mike simply could not take his eyes off him. By the end of the evening, everyone was pretty drunk and left Jay's apartment laughing and singing, but Mike, although also drunk as hell, felt like he had an obligation to stay and help Jay clean up. 

As it turned out, he didn't as he found Jay asleep on the floor, his head resting on the couch in the living room. Truthfully, Mike's first instinct when he stumbled into the room was to wake Jay up and mock him mercilessly for a) lying on the floor b) missing the opportunity to be helped with the mess, but after crushing on a near couch his mind drifted in another direction.

In the dimness of the room, Jay looked peaceful, his sharp features soften, and something in Mike's gut turned at how vulnerable his friend looked at that moment. Without further thinking, he got up awkwardly and made his way to the smaller man, kneeled and wound his arms around Jay's waist, lifting him gingerly. In response, Jay made a muffled sound, but didn't wake up, just threw his arms around Mike's shoulders and snuggled into the bigger man's chest as they clumsily fell on the couch. He could've left there, he should've left there, there was nothing for him there anyway, beside Jay's hand gripping his shirt while the man himself let out tiny breaths onto his throat, brushing Mike's stubble with his moustache. In that moment, Mike felt like if the building had caught on fire, he wouldn't have been able to move, with that little adorable creature in his grasp clinging to him so trustingly, so sweetly. With great care, he moved his head so that he could stare Jay right in the face, soaking every little thing about it: how his lips parted ever so slightly and his skin became a bit sweaty, probably because of the hat he was still wearing. Gently, Mike took his palm off Jay's shoulder and placed it on his cheek, unable to think straight at such sight and the feeling of Jay's skin under his thumb that almost independently began to caress his friend's cheekbone. 

"Showbiz Pizza Bear, is that you?" Jay murmured under his breath, and while Mike struggled to collect the seams of his thinking abilities, continued: "It's so hot in here, must be from all the pizzas cooking."

"Don't worry, I'll fix it," was all Mike could utter before reaching out and taking Jay's hat off. Even rumpled, sweat dripping hair was a good look on him. It would probably be better if he released Jay from his grasp, Mike knew that in the back of his mind, and at the same time every cell of his body refused to let go. 

"Hmmmpfff," Jay sighed in relief, coating Mike's face with his beer and candy smelling breath, and then drawing the air away by inhaling deeply, "it feels nice, can I stay like that..." he paused, his tongue tripping and his hands starting to wander up and down Mike's shoulders and chest, "...for a while?" 

"Yeah, sure," Mike fell short of words, unable to even imagine how one could be talkative when Jay was underneath him, squirming slightly, trying to find a comfortable position, and making soft huffy noises that hit straight in Mike's heart and bounced right to his cock. He knew it was fucked, he knew he was fucked up and could do nothing about it.

That night, he lay with Jay, covering him and holding onto him for dear life, not really knowing what to make of it, blaming his raging erection and feverish thoughts of ramming his mouth into Jay's on alcohol, tight space and his lack of sexual satisfaction as of recent. 

It was awkward in the morning, especially for Mike who at some point had fallen asleep on top of Jay and then had experienced waking up to Jay moving beneath him, gasping for air, still fast asleep and happily unaware of how much it took Mike not to thrust between his friend's spread legs where Mike found himself to be positioned, or not nibble at his temptingly displayed neck. 

Despite Mike feeling like absolute shit and acting accordingly, Jay didn't seem to notice the weirdness, his cheeks just turned a cute shade of pink when Mike deadpanned at him, revealing how he'd fallen asleep on the floor and that Mike had to get him on the couch.

The thoughts in Mike's head spun a little, his life coming into a perspective. Had Jay really been wanting him since they were twenty-year-old kids? He had been so closed off all this time, it seemed nearly impossible, but was it really? 

Come to think about it, Jay being in love with Mike could explain a lot of things. Like how soft his gaze sometimes was, how he laughed at every one of Mike's jokes with actual content and not just to hide his natural bashfulness. How he never actually went out with anyone for more than two weeks or got really angry really quickly if Mike began to talk about his love conquests. 

For the longest time, Mike told himself he was imagining concealed longing in Jay's eyes, told himself it was all wishful thinking, but what if it wasn't? Even in the morning after Halloween, the way Jay thanked him: delight emitting from him and that hopeful little expression he had while they sat on the porch, taking in the last warm glimpses of sun. Thinking about it made Mike's heart swell. All those years, more than a decade of self-denial and fear, and there he was again: scared to do the wrong thing, cautious to the worst extreme, feeling self-righteous for being afraid. But he'd had enough. He had found the thing he'd been a part of, the crucial part even, and that thing was him and Jay, together, in that chair, at the shop or Plinkett's house, in their small apartment - wherever, whenever - this is how the universe meant them to be and he felt fire run through his veins as he realized it. 

Blazing, he slammed back into the room, the last glimpse of fear fading as he saw Jay with his eyes shut and face peaceful, and so, so lovable. He rushed to him, brought his hands to Jay's resting face and covered every inch of it, including his slightly puffy lips, with kisses. Jay woke up when Mike was at the second round on his sharp adorable nose, and laughed, clearly confused, but happy, and was muted by Mike immediately as he sucked on Jay's lips, and then sucked on them a bit more, taking in every little pleasure-filled sound Jay was making.

They didn't have sex that time, both too excited with the revelation to stop rattling on about all the things they had meant to say years ago, but the next day and the day after were full of much less talking and much more of things that were dirty, and sweet, and weird in all the right ways. 


End file.
